Brother, What I Would Do For You
by Alice Evangeline Bae Gracey
Summary: Pre-story #3. Despite his own issues, Oswald sacrifices a lot for Mickey, just as he would for his own brother. Amelia also comes to terms for what she would for her brothers, even if one is struggling through some self-loathing that could lead to something worse.
1. In Which Oswald Willingly Starves

**Brother, What I Would Do For You**

* * *

He wouldn't be lying if he said he thought about it. He'd be lying if he said that he didn't.

Ever since his parents had died and he was introduced to Fanny through a co-worker at the repair shop he used to work for, Oswald's life took a crumbling stop and just began to limp through the pattern. He hadn't been allowed to talk to his siblings, simply because Fanny didn't like them, and he was only allowed to bring co-workers to his place. Once or twice he managed to secretly see his older sister in private, and only once had he managed to talk to his baby brother.

It was then, as his brother stuttered a phrase that spoke his worry, that Oswald realized he was heading down the wrong path.

He had noticed that lately, he had become self-destructive. Drinking a lot more, even eating more harmful foods. He had once spent fifteen minutes just staring at one of their kitchen knifes as he had been putting away the dishes, and had almost used it to slit one of his wrists. The last straw had been Fanny kicking him out after he had left dinner in the stove too long and that whole argument broke out, and as he wandered down the street to the other side of town, as far away from her as he could walk, he had contemplated it then.

When his brother had found him, bought him those fries, and took him home, he had been thinking about jumping in front of one of the cars. He realized then that his baby brother was a godsend, or maybe sent to him through his mother and his father. Maybe they freaked upon realizing what he was intending to do, and didn't want him to go through with it, didn't want to see him where they were so soon. He didn't know what the truth was, but he realized then that someone in this world still needed Oswald Mouse the Bastard Rabbit.

His baby brother still needed him, as he woke up one morning after a terribly long shift at the private office of Horace Horsecollar, and yawned his way through making his breakfast. Oswald watched from the kitchen table only for a moment before standing up and taking the jug of orange juice from his brother's hands.

"... Uhwha?" muttered his brother intelligibly.

"Mick, you were about to pour orange juice into your cereal," Oswald stated rather simply, pouring the orange juice into a glass. "Go sit down, I'll get everything set up for you. Do you need caffeine?"

His brother mumbled a "Yes, please." as he sauntered over to the kitchen table. The only reason Oswald caught it was through the use of his long rabbit ears, and he gave a smile.

"Alright, boss."

With that, Oswald finished Mickey's breakfast preparations and made a quick cup of steaming hot coffee. After delivering the food, he sat back down across from his brother at the table, and smiled as he watched him pick at his cereal.

"Are you going to eat that, or not?" he chuckled.

"I... I'm g-gonna eat it..." Mickey muttered. "Just sleepy."

"What time did you come in at?" Oswald asked then, fixing the neckline of the extremely big shirt he was wearing. He felt the oversized clothes made him look like a hobo, and couldn't wait until Minnie could help him go shopping for some clothes that fit. He had only been living here for three months, and none of his clothes fit yet. He wasn't regaining his weight fast enough, and he knew that it worried his siblings and Minnie to no end, which made him upset.

Mickey took a while to answer, as his head nodded somewhat. "L-late. Around th-three in the mo-morning... D-didn't fall asleep un... until four..."

Oswald almost dropped his mug of tea. "You have _got _to stop taking those late night shifts. They're killing you."

Mickey's response was a yawn, and that was it. Oswald watched in worry as his brother neglected his cereal and just drank his much-needed coffee. The rest of the morning routine went on like that, up until the caffeine that Mickey had finally kicked in and he began rushing about, getting dressed and grabbing his things. Oswald stayed at his spot at the table as his brother zipped about, before saying a quick, stuttery good bye, and leaving.

This left Oswald all alone in the house, with just Pluto as company, and a bowl of cereal sitting forgotten on the kitchen table. With a sigh, he finished his tea, dumped the cereal out after draining the milk, then wandered into the living room where the phone was. He sat down in the chair next to the phone and contemplated for a while what he should do. He didn't want his baby brother getting sick, after all. It wouldn't be good for either of them.

With that, he picked up the receiver and paused, trying to think of a number to call. The first thought that came to mind was calling Amelia, who would have advice, but it would mainly be manhandling their baby brother to bed as soon as he got home. The other issue was Mickey was just trying to make sure that they had money to spend on important things, like groceries, and the bills.

He hung up, and stayed there, sitting in the chair. He didn't turn on the television. Instead, he turned his way back to the phone and gave a sigh, finally deciding to just read the newspaper.

Nothing new was happening in town. There had been a wedding between two mice, and a birth was announced. About five residents in town were having a birthday today, and one couple was having their tenth anniversary. An old man that lived down the street from Scrooge McDuck had passed away and there was a sale going on at the grocery store. Oswald decided to remember that, seeing as how their groceries were running low again. Morty and Ferdie's soccer team won their game yesterday, and Max's school had a food drive.

Oswald flipped through the newspaper some more before landing on the classifieds. The sudden thought occurred to him about maybe getting a job soon, instead of mooching off of his brother and causing him to overwork himself.

The thought had come to him before, and he had even brought it up with Mickey himself. The home had been suffocating after his first month, but his brother had stubbornly said that he was still recovering and probably shouldn't be working yet. Now, though... he was sure that he had to get work in order to lighten the load. His brother was going to become like him at this rate, if they continued going on like this. He didn't want Mickey getting sick, after all.

In silence, with just Pluto for company, Oswald skimmed through the classifieds, trying to find somewhere that would accept a skinny and still slightly sick rabbit as he was. Most everything on the newspaper being advertised required hard labour and experience, with one ad asking for someone to be a truck driver, which Oswald raised an eyebrow at, but didn't consider. With a groan, he placed the classifieds back on the side table, and decided to kill the time until Mickey returned from his morning shift.

It was at this point that the phone rang. Oswald picked it up immediately, saying, "Hello, Mouse residence."

"Is this Mr Mouse?" asked the voice on the other side.

"Depends on who's talking. May I ask who's calling?" asked Oswald immediately in return. He frowned as he did so, already not liking this. Was it a telemarketer? Was Mickey in trouble in some way?

"Uh, yes, um. This is Chief O'Hara, you know, the guy that runs the police station? Your brother works for Horace, who works in this building..." He cleared his throat and something told Oswald he was sweating slightly. "Um, yes. I'm phoning in because there's something wrong with Mickey. You're Oswald, right? His older brother who's somehow a rabbit?"

"Um, yes..." Oswald started, panic rising in his heart. Something was wrong with Mickey? "What's wrong?"

"Nothing major, I don't think," stated Chief O'Hara, making Oswald let out a sigh of relief. "He's passed out on the desk, and Horace says he's running a bit of a fever. He might just have the flu, but that's just what I think..."

_He probably picked it up from me if he does have it,_ Oswald figured, messing with the phone cord. "Well, alright... but he took the car, see..."

"Doesn't he have a little girlfriend? Ask her for a ride. I can have someone drop off the car at your place later today," Chief O'Hara stated carefully, as a conversation between Horace and someone else occurred in the background. "I suggest you come sooner rather than later, he should probably be sleeping in his bed, not on his desk."

Needless to say, Oswald had very swiftly dialed up Minnie and had gotten a ride to Mickey's workplace. With the help of Horace, they slowly moved him to the back of Minnie's little pink car and drove him home, where Goofy then helped them get him to bed. Oswald tucked him in, Minnie kissed him lightly on the cheek, and Goofy then turned off the lights. Together, the three stepped out into the hallway, Oswald closing the door.

"Gawrsh," sounded Goofy. "He isn't lookin' too good."

"Oh, dear," Minnie sighed. "What do you think it is?"

To both of them, Oswald suddenly gained a guilty look, as he put a hand to the door frame and looked down at the floor. His long ears lowered considerably to the back of his head. "... Probably the flu, from me..."

"Oh..." Minnie cooed, taking Oswald's other hand. "Oswald, don't feel bad... Besides, this is a chance to return the favour, after all."

Oswald nodded in understanding, considering all the time Mickey had given up to take care of him when he had been sick and barely able to hold down anything. "... Right, I suppose I understand. I'll take care of him, Minnie, Goofy. Don't worry about it."

"If you need anything," Minnie began, as she and Goofy began to head to the front door, "just tell me, okay?"

"And if you need a ride or anything to the store or such and she's not available," started Goofy, "then you just dash across the street and tell me, alright?"

Oswald simply nodded as the two of them waved goodbye and left the house, Goofy heading across the street to his own place and Minnie hopping into her car. He appreciated the help they were offering, but he didn't want to bother either of them with trivial things. With a sigh, he wandered into the kitchen and opened the fridge to see what they had.

Milk, eggs, butter, some meat. He then looked into the cupboards. Some bread, broth, and oatmeal. They didn't even have any juice anymore. Mickey had used up the rest that morning.

Closing the cupboard, Oswald contemplated his situation. Money was getting tight, and they still needed to pay the bills. They were running low on groceries. Mickey was sick, and thus, couldn't go to work to make the money needed for the groceries. Oswald didn't have a job, and couldn't get one now because he had to take care of Mickey. And, he was getting hungry.

No point in wasting the food on him, he decided. Mickey was far more important. And, with that, the rabbit decided to start on chores instead.

* * *

Almost ten days later, Amelia Fieldmouse decided that it was time to visit. Oswald had never been so frustrated with his older sister as he had been when he opened the door to find her there, a stern frown on her face as she barged her way into the house. He watched as she stormed down the hall to Mickey's room and swung open the door.

When she stormed back after he had decided to make her coffee and himself a tea, she said one thing to him.

"And what made you think that it was okay to not tell me that our baby brother's been sick with the flu for _ten days_?" she barked at him. "His _girlfriend_ had to tell me!"

"I can take care of him myself, you know. I'm older than you like to think," Oswald snarked back, deciding to continue with their drinks.

"Taking care of the two of you is _my job_, I'm your older sister!" Amelia replied, throwing her arms up in the air in frustration. "I hate how the two of you seem to always think you can get away with this! I can't keep arguing over this with you!"

"Then just give up," was the rabbit's reply, as he turned around with a coffee for her. He knew that trying to chase her out of the house was a bad idea, especially when she was in a foul mood like she was now. He flinched when she snatched the mug of coffee from him and immediately recoiled, backing up.

"Don't tell me to just give up on the two of you," she fumed, before she took a sip of her coffee.

Oswald had been preparing his tea as she had spoken and gave a snort. "That's not what I'm saying, I'm just saying that because I'm the one that's here, it's my job to take care of him if something happens."

"You're barely able to take care of yourself on a good day," Amelia retorted nastily, leaning against the kitchen table now. "I mean, look at you, have you lost weight again?"

He hated the way she said 'again'. He seethed at her words, too. Yes, he had lost weight... but that's because Mickey needed the food more than he did. He was healthy, Mickey was not. Mickey was recovering from a high fever, Oswald was just underfed and underweight. Mickey was the baby of the family, and Oswald was just useless little Oswald who had no job and was practically mooching off of Mickey. Look where that got their baby brother - the doctor said he had something worse than the flu, and it was all his fault. Now here they were with barely any groceries, and Oswald had been _rationing _in order to get Mickey the right amount of food. What was her point?

"... Oswald," Amelia stated again. He turned to see her close to putting the coffee mug on the kitchen table. "Oswald, you never answered me."

"It doesn't matter if I did or didn't," Oswald decided to say. "I'm doing the best I can with what I got, in the way I know how." Here, he began to stir some of the last of the sugar into his tea. He could see Amelia giving the almost empty sugar bowl a concerned look. "The doctor said Mick can be up in a few days, and he'll be back to work and calling you every other day in no time."

"Oswald, it does matter if you lost weight," Amelia pointed out. "You're the one that's taking care of Mickey right now, and we can't have you getting sick, too, on top of everything else!"

"It's going to _be fine_," was the snapped reply. Oswald had reached his temper limit, and had outright blown up in his sister's face. It was mainly due to the fact that he was hungry and annoyed, and hungry creatures were far more dangerous than ones on full stomachs. However, Oswald quickly regained control, putting a hand to his head, and shaking it slightly, gaining a sad look. "... I... I'm sorry for snapping. I didn't mean to..."

"You're tired and stressed," was the older sister's guess, as she finished the last of her coffee. "Don't worry about it."

"Still, I'm going to go to bed, I think," Oswald muttered, already heading toward the end of the hall. "Show yourself out..."

His ears caught the sound of her muttering her reply, which was something along the lines of, "Oh, I will." He almost wanted to stay behind to see what the hidden meaning behind her words was, but he was far too tired and hungry to really think about it.

Yes, he had been rationing his food. His meals were barely the size of a large egg now, and he skipped lunch every day to give it to Mickey instead. Most times, he even skipped breakfast or supper. He had no choice. Their groceries were low, and they were low on money. There was the upcoming bills that still needed to be paid, and with Mickey not working, and Oswald not having a job, the household didn't even have an income coming in to pay for it. That was why Oswald decided he was going to ration his meals in the first place. If someone needed to give, it was going to have to be him, as he was the freeloader.

When all this was said and done and Mickey was back, up and running, sorting papers again, Oswald swore he was going to get a job to help out more. He was done with mooching off his brother, and he wasn't about to have an argument over it. The reason he never got one in the first place was because Mickey was sure he wasn't ready, but, if this was where him freeloading was going to take his brother and with this many problems, then he was going to go against his wishes.

* * *

When he woke up again, it was later in the day, almost night. He sat up, groaning a bit and rubbing at his right eye. A wave of vertigo overcame him as, for a moment, the entire world around him began to sway and move. It had been happening for a while now - at least since he had been kicked out of Fanny's home with barely anything. Or, maybe it was before, when his depression had really started and he had stared at that knife for fifteen minutes. It had gotten worse since he had started to ration his meals.

Sometimes he wondered why he didn't end it there.

As soon as it cleared, a loud, angry growl came from his stomach. Sighing, he put a hand to it, as if trying to soothe it. Another came, and then another, and he outwardly groaned.

"Not tonight," he told himself, wincing. "Not eating tonight. There's not enough..."

He got up from the bed slowly, hoping to not induce another attack from vertigo, and turned to face the clock. It was around 6:30, so he should make a small meal for Mickey at least.

That is, until the doorbell rang. Pluto in the living room barked loudly at the sound, and Oswald sighed, heading off to answer it.

It was Amelia again, and this time, she was bearing grocery bags. As soon as he had opened up the door, she barged right past him, lugging the bags right down to the kitchen, and placing them on the kitchen table. Oswald had followed her the entire way, seething both inside and outside.

"What is this...!" he began to say, but she swiftly turned toward him and hushed him.

"Shush! Be quiet! Isn't Mickey sleeping right now?" she said, before pointing at the still open door. "Now hurry out to my van, there are more bags inside."

"Ammie, you didn't have to..."

"Yes, yes I did, and do you want to know why I did?" At this, Oswald could tell that his older sister was beyond angry. In fact, he was pretty sure that he had never seen her this angry in the first place. "I did have to do this, because after you went to bed for a nap, I ransacked your fridge and found absolutely nothing in it. Just a carton of eggs, and an expired carton of milk."

"I meant to throw that out," he pointed out swiftly, not moving an inch.

"Sure you did," Amelia snapped. "I hope you didn't drink from that thing."

Maybe he contemplated it at one point. Would have gotten food poisoning from it, though. "Of course not."

He watched as she tossed it and worked to stocking the fridge. She glared at him at one point, and he recalled the other bags in her van parked outside. With a sigh, he headed back to the door, shooed Pluto back inside, and went to her van, collecting the bags. Oswald hadn't wanted her to do this. He had never asked her in the first place, for this was all his fault. Still, it meant better food for Mickey that he could prepare, and now he didn't have to worry about running out of food to make for his recovering brother. He could feel his stomach rumbling from underneath his baggy shirt, and he sighed as he closed the trunk of his sister's van and headed back inside.

Inside, Amelia had pretty much found places for everything and was patiently waiting for him. Together, they put the rest of the food away, until they sat down at the kitchen table with cups of coffee and tea.

"Now, why didn't you think that was important enough to tell me?" Amelia snapped before she took a sip of her coffee.

"I could handle it," was Oswald's tired reply.

"Clearly, you couldn't. All you had in there was eggs before I stocked it," she told him sharply. "Honestly, Oswald, Mickey's not going to die if you leave him unattended for half an hour to get some groceries!"

Oswald stayed quiet as he glared down at his tea, before standing up, a tight grip on his mug. "... My tea needs more sugar," he announced, but his hands, they were trembling.

He had never noticed them doing that, and wondered just how long they had been shaking as they had. The trembling they were doing, however, caused his grip on his mug to loosen, resulting in the mug of tea falling to the ground and smattering on impact, the liquid scattering across the floor. Amelia immediately rushed and got a cloth, wiping away the tea, before carefully picking up the shards.

All Oswald could think of was how angry Mickey was going to be, considering it was one of Mickey's mugs. The world moved once again, and he knew that he was suffering another bout of his vertigo. As Amelia took hold of his trembling hands, only thoughts of Mickey's mug shattered across the floor came to him. Finally, as she tightened her hold, he looked up at her, and noticed her completely calm face.

"... You should really eat something, Ozzie," she said, as she brought him back to his seat at the table. "Stay here, I'll make you a new tea and something good to eat."

The first thing that came out of his mouth was, "Don't waste your time on me... Mickey's in more need of it right now... I'm not hungry any way."

She only tightened her grip once more around his trembling hands. "Oswald... I know you think otherwise, and it hurts me so much to know this, but I think you need to know that you're important, too."

Oswald could say nothing in return, only look up at her in shock.

"Now, you're going to stay here, and I'm going to make you something to eat," Amelia continued with a smile, letting go of his hands finally.

The kitchen stayed in silence as she worked, making a tea first for Oswald, then preparing the meal they were going to have. She had to coax him into eating it, but Oswald had to admit it was the best thing he had had since he had started rationing in the first place. Eventually, it was time for her to go, and Oswald retreated back into his bed, considering all that had happened.

He had been willing to starve for Mickey. To give up his own health, his own life if he had to. Closing his eyes, and rolling onto his side, he gave a soft smile. Well, Mickey was his baby brother.

Better to lose his life this way rather than with a knife, anyway. At least then he'd have died with a noble cause rather than by his own hand.

* * *

Meanwhile, Amelia drove home, shaking from the disbelief of what she had encountered today. Her brothers, in that kind of a state.

She had to buy them groceries, something that she hadn't even stopped to question. Those were her brothers.

She went to city hall first, and asked about their bills. She paid for those, too. These were her brothers, after all.

... But in all that, she had never considered the possibility of Oswald falling so low. She had suspicions that something had been off about him since he had come back to them from Fanny's world. He seemed... gruffer, more irritable. But to self-loathe himself and let himself be neglected in the way that he had done? Never. It scared her, honestly.

The last time she had faced something like this, it had been a friend in high school who's personality had suddenly shifted when his little sister had vanished. His name had been Jasper, and they had hung out together almost every day, up until his sister had disappeared, another victim of the strange Argente de Champagne manor.

... He soon vanished, too. His book bag had been found by the river. The town's police force had said suicide.

More than anything, Amelia didn't want her brother to fall that low. Tightening her grip on the steering wheel, she made a promise then. She'd do anything she'd have to in order to make sure he never did.


	2. In Which A Knife is Involved

**Brother, What I Would Do For You**

**EPILOGUE**

* * *

It was tempting.

The kitchen knife was as sharp as Fanny's had been. It wasn't as dull, though, around the tip, and it was nicely cleaned. The benefits of Mickey's dishwasher, as gifted to him from Donald Duck, if he recalled correctly. Still, the knife had a nice, sharp edge to it, and Oswald was sure it would do it... quickly...

He blinked. Why was he even thinking of this? Now, of all times, with Mickey in the other room?

Since Amelia had helped him out of that jam, Mickey had gotten much better, to the point he could now walk around the house. His work shifts were now shorter and less tedious, as well as only down to about three or four in a week. Oswald had been looking for jobs whenever he wasn't in the house, and now, here he was, emptying the dishwasher and staring at a butcher knife.

How had he fallen so low?

"... Oswald?"

Oswald jolted, looking up immediately to see Mickey in the entrance to the kitchen, looking at his brother somewhat worriedly. There was deafening silence between them, both frozen in place from the shock and the awkwardness of the situation. Oswald finally broke it, straightening and quickly putting the knife away, looking down at the floor immediately.

"... Just putting away the dishes," he told him gently, moving to the forks.

The mouse didn't believe him, and it was obvious. He quickly swept in, collecting all the sharp objects from the dishwasher, and then, just as speedily, put it all away. Before Oswald could even return to what he was doing, the mouse swiftly turned back to face him, an angry look upon his muzzle, and his hands going to his hips immediately.

"Wh-what was th-that?" he demanded to know.

"It was nothing," was Oswald's answer, fighting his way back to the dishwasher.

"It... It w-wasn't 'n-n-noth-thing'!" Mickey stuttered, and although his usual stutter was making his words shaky, his voice spoke his disapproval. "You w-were staring at th-that knife for a r-reason, and I know you w-were."

Oswald blinked, just wanting to end this conversation already. His brother clearly had gone to the obvious conclusion, and, unfortunately, he was right. Oswald knew he had issues, things that he had to work out and fight to overcome. He was sure that Mickey would be more than glad to help with it, but this was something that he had to face. Something that he had to overcome alone. He didn't want Mickey involved if it ended badly.

"It wasn't anything..."

"It m-most certainly was! D-don't lie t-to me!"

"I'm not lying..."

"L-look at th-th-those ears, th-they're d-drooping, yu... you're lying to m-me!"

"Mick..."

"S-stop it! Te...Tell me... me the t-truth!"

Pluto was whining at the entrance to the kitchen. Oswald could see him from where he was, and he could even see Goofy across the street glaring at the fight through the window in his living room. It was the unfortunate side effect of not having blinds or curtains on the living room windows. Oswald ran a hand down his long ears, and looked back at his brother, already regretting the words he was about to say.

This was his brother, and Oswald knew that he had a right to know what going on in his life. Unfortunately, he deserved more than useless little Oswald who was mooching off of his brother every day, eating his food, sleeping in his spare room, occasionally wearing his clothes and lounging on his couch, drinking from his mugs and using his electricity.

Oswald hated himself more than Mickey would ever know.

"... It was nothing, Mickey," Oswald told him again, pushing his way past the mouse and then storming off to his room, closing the door behind him.

* * *

That left Mickey all alone in the kitchen, the open dishwasher having been left forgotten. The mouse looked down at the floor, clenching his fists in anger and concern. If this was how his older brother was going to play it, then so be it. He was going to let him, but from now on, he was going to keep a closer eye, watch his brother carefully. He didn't want to lose his brother, especially to something as stupid as this.

He didn't even want to think of the possibility of it. So, to clear his head, Mickey resumed clearing out the dishes, and then moving on to cheering up the sad looking Pluto.

"It's okay, P-pluto," Mickey assured him, giving him a treat. "N-nothing bad's go... gonna happen. I p-promise."

* * *

_Lost Child Report_

_NAME: Gander Duckling  
SEX: Female  
AGE: 12  
DATE OF DISAPPEARANCE: February 16, 1932  
Disappeared from Iwerk Drive on the evening of the 16th. Neighbours report she had been walking in the direction of the Argente de Champagne manor. Upon hearing these news, the police dropped the case immediately._

_If you have any information leading to the discovery of Gander Duckling's whereabouts, you are asked to contact the police station immediately._

* * *

The end... or is it?  
Stay tuned for the next installment...

**Sitting on the Sidelines**


End file.
